


Back to You

by moony143



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Because I can, Because Space Pirates, Bottom Yondu Udonta, Bottoming from the Top, Explicit Language, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Wounds, I Hurt Peter Again Guys, Kraglin Raised Peter, M/M, Peter is a Little Shit, Pre-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Re-write, Truly Foul Language, Yondu Udonta/OMC, because I said so, graphic depictions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moony143/pseuds/moony143
Summary: “Yer a f*cking idjit, I ever told ya that?” Yondu mumbled to the silent room. He knew what Peter would say if he were conscious, something like ‘well, takes one to know one,’ or some other nonsense, but he’d toss Yondu one of those easy smiles that split his face in half anyway. Yondu scrubbed angrily at his cheek, frustrated because this wasn’t how this was supposed to f*cking go.They were supposed to be on their way back to the Eclector, supposed to be headed home with a hell of a haul. Like always, they were supposed to drink in celebration of such a profitable mission. Kraglin was supposed to pick a fight with Peter, but end up grinning his ass off when the kid he’d raised ended up inevitably besting him. Peter was supposed to drink too damn much and flirt with anything with legs, but ultimately fall into place at Yondu’s side, heavy weight pressing into him as he drunkenly tried to stay upright.OR - Peter gets hurt on the job and Yondu is forced to face the fact that he wants... *something* from his jackass Terran.This is a re-write of my fic from earlier today called "Fooled Around and Fell In Love" because it left me feeling unsatisfied.





	Back to You

**Author's Note:**

> SO, I re-read what I wrote on 'Fooled Around and Fell In Love" and it just left a bad taste in my mouth. This is a (much longer, holy crap) re-write and I hope you guys like it a little more.  
> It's still for Xan, and I sincerely hope that they still enjoy it, and that it satisfies their need for soft Yondu and lovemaking!  
> If anyone wants to read the original, I still have it and will most certainly make this a series and put it up. Just let me know!

It was supposed to be a normal job – get in, kill some people, grab their gold and get the fuck out. Yondu had only brought Kraglin, Peter, Halfnut, and Trix, trusting that the best of his men would be enough to get it done. They hadn’t counted on the explosives, had never even considered the fact that these fucks were so greedy they’d created a self-destruct button so no one else could get their loot.

Yondu had his boot to the last man’s throat, grinning cheekily down at him, drawing it out because he was, apparently, a fucking moron. His smile slipped slightly when the man chuckled, blue blood dripping down his lips, staining his teeth as he looked Yondu right in the eye. Irritated, Yondu pushed down ever so slightly harder on the guy’s windpipe.

“What chu laughin’ at, huh?”

The man didn’t say a word, just lifted his arm so Yondu could see the bracelet there. Too late, Yondu realized that there was a red button attached to that bracelet. The reaction was immediate, and Yondu fell to his knees as first one, then two, then three explosions rocked the ship. He heard the others shouting, heard the panic, heard someone’s scream abruptly cut off as something large and metallic crashed to the floor.

Yondu recovered quickly from his shock, glaring down at the stupid fuck who had set the explosions off. “Yer fuckin’ insane!” he hissed, and as the man laughed once more Yondu whistled sharply, taking fierce satisfaction as his arrow pierced through his head, the light from the Yaka’s trail lighting the man’s dead eyes.

“ _Yondu!_ Look out!” Peter screamed, and before Yondu could even turn his head around he felt something slam into his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the floor a few feet away. His implant jolted against the ground as his head hit, but everything else was drowned out by Peter’s agonized shriek.

Yondu rolled to his feet as quickly as he could, dreading what he’d see. His heart dropped at the sight before him, of his Terran on the ground in a pool of his own blood, a jagged metal pipe protruding from the right side of his stomach. There was another piece of pipe next to his head, and a slowly oozing wound near his temple, and his eyes were closed.

“Fuck, Pete!” Yondu hissed, knees clanking against the floor as he dropped to them next to the boy.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ was he even breathing? “Don’t you _dare_ , you little asshole. You cannot fucking die on me!”

The knot in his chest loosened ever so slightly when he put his fingers to Peter’s neck and found a pulse there, but there was so much blood and he didn’t really know all that much about Terran anatomy but he did know that their organs were vulnerable. He had to take a deep breath before he could turn his gaze down to the wound, had to steel himself, but it didn’t help in the long run; he still felt the panic threatening to overtake him. The pipe wasn’t as big as he’d originally thought, maybe an inch or two around, jagged at the top where it had broken off. It was protruding grotesquely from Peter’s body, close enough to his side that he thought it might not have hit anything vital.

Yondu pushed Peter’s sweat-damp hair back so he could get a better look at the head wound. It wasn’t as serious as the blood seeping out of it would suggest, but he had no doubt that Peter was going to have a nasty concussion from it later. He took a deep breath and reached out for the pipe, hesitating at the last second. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this unsure in a situation like this. It was his _job_ to be the one to remain level-headed when shit went sideways, but as he stared at the jagged pipe in Peter’s side indecision wracked him.

Was he supposed to remove it? What if he pulled it out and it caught on an organ? He’d heard of shit like that happening in the field before, of people dying because someone didn’t leave it until they could get to a doctor. What if it was already _in_ an organ and removing it was what killed him?

 _Fuck!_  

Yondu had always known he was weak when it came to this stupid Terran, had known for a good year now that his feelings ran a lot deeper than they should. He hadn’t realized how badly he was going to regret not acting on those feelings – and that was fucking stupid because he was a _Ravager_ , and Ravagers took what they fucking wanted – until he was forced to sit there floundering to make a decision, not knowing if it would be his action or inaction that snuffed out the Terran’s blinding light.

It was just fucking perfect that he’d become this attached to this giant, idiotic Terran with his easy grins and thirst for life. Of fucking course he would, of fucking course he’d pick the most inappropriate subject: the kid he’d kidnapped, the kid he’d put his unwilling first mate in charge of raising, the frustrating jackass who had been bringing never-ending chaos to his life for the past eighteen years. Of fucking course that same asshole would up and do something sickeningly noble like _sacrifice himself_ for Yondu.

_Stupid fucking jackass._

Yondu growled, frustrated with his inability to make a decision, sitting up and searching the chaos around him for his first mate. He spotted the man in question on the other side of the room, trying to pull a hunk of heavy metal off of Halfnut. “Kraglin! Get the fuck over here!”

Kraglin’s head jerked in Yondu’s direction, face red, sweat streaking down his soot-covered cheek. “I’m a little fuckin’ busy here, Cap!”

Yondu took a deep breath, reminding himself that despite his selfish impulses every crewmember was supposed to be equally important. He huffed, glaring down once at Peter’s prone form as if it were the stupid idiot’s fault he had to leave him (which it kind of fucking was, the self-sacrificing moron), before hauling himself to his feet to go help his first. Kraglin nodded to him gratefully as he took up his place next to him, shoulder to shoulder. The bent their knees as one, and Yondu huffed out a straining breath as they _pushed_. He had no idea what the fuck this piece of metal came from, but Halfnut was damn lucky he was able to _move_ after it dropped on him, let alone drag himself out and scramble immediately to his feet.

They dropped the piece down with a crash, and Yondu brushed off his hands, not even bothering to ask if the other man was okay before jerking his head in Peter’s direction. “Come on, Krags, Pete’s hurt and I dunno what the fuck to do.”

Kraglin was dashing over before the words had finished spilling from Yondu’s lips, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get to Peter’s side. Yondu shook his head and jogged after him, happy that someone else was taking the situation seriously. Kraglin may pretend to not give a shit about Peter nowadays, but Yondu knew different. When he’d charge Kraglin – eighteen then, barely – with looking out for the Terran kid all those years ago he’d had to fight for it. Kraglin had been angry, had no interest in being put on ‘babysitting duty’, didn’t want to raise no shit-head Terran brat.

Peter had always had a way about him, though, and it wasn’t a month before Yondu had caught Kraglin teaching the boy how to throw a good punch, displaying a patience Yondu never would have thought possible until that moment. Yondu knew that Kraglin had quickly come to view Peter as a little brother, knew that his first cared about him probably more than he cared about himself.

“ _Fucking hell,_ Quill,” Kraglin hissed as Yondu knelt down beside him. “The fuck did you do you yourself this time?”

Yondu used his sleeve to try and wipe away some of the still-seeping blood at Peter’s temple, succeeding only in smearing it around. “I was busy takin’ out the fuck what blew up the ship. Wasn’t payin’ attention, and Peter saw this shit about to fall on me. He shoved me outta the way, but I guess he wasn’t fast enough to move himself, the fucking idjit. What do we do here, Krags? I don’t know shit about Terrans. Yer species is closer to em than mine. Can we take this thing out?”

Kraglin let out a breath, frowning and staring at the pipe. “I don’t think we have a choice, Cap. We can’t carry him like this, and if we don’t move him soon we’re all fucked. I don’t like it, but we gotta get it outta him and move.”

Yondu nodded, looking up and around to see where Halfnut had gotten off to. He spot him a ways away, pulling the weapons off of Trix’s dead body, of course, the greedy fuck. “Halfnut! Get yet ass over here!”

Halfnut must have heard the urgency in Yondu’s rough voice because he stopped what he was doing immediately and jogged over to them. He whistled lowly as he skidded to a halt beside them, looking over Peter’s body with a raised eyebrow. “Damn, Quill really fucked himself this time, didn’t he?”

The other man quailed at the twin angry sneers his superiors leveled him with. “Right, um, okay, what do we need to do?”

Yondu glared a second longer before shrugging out of his coat and yanking his shirt over his head. “Me’n you are gonna hold Pete still while Kraglin pulls out that there pipe. Then we’re gonna wrap up the wound and hightail it outta this disaster so we can get his sorry ass to a hospital.”

“ _What?_ What about the haul, boss? We’re just gonna, what, _leave it all?_ ” Halfnut spluttered, and even though Yondu couldn’t blame him – would have said the same fucking thing if it were pretty much anyone but this idiot in front of him – his anger still flared.

Yondu’s short, sharp whistle pierced the hair and Halfnut yelped as the slim Yaka zipped up to rest at his throat. The captain’s voice was dangerously low when he spoke, the way it got when he really fucking meant business. “I don’t give two fucks about the haul, _or you_ , so you better shut the fuck up and do as I say before I run yer sorry ass through for insubordination.”

Halfnut raised both hands in surrender and Yondu whistled the arrow back into its holster at his hip with a warning glare. He jerked his head towards Peter's feet to indicate that the other man should hold them, and then took his place kneeling at Peter’s head, pressing firmly down on those broad shoulders. Kraglin let out a shaky breath and wrapped both hands around the pipe, jaw set in determination, before ripping it out without another word. The pipe made a squelching sound as it left Peter’s side, and Peter’s body jerked, thrashing around. Yondu grit his teeth as he pressed harder at the boy’s shoulders, sighing gratefully when he settled down after just two heaving jerks.

The wound was oozing a steady stream of thick red blood, sluggishly seeping out to soak Peter’s grey t-shirt. Thankfully the pipe hadn’t gone all the way through, and Yondu could use his balled-up shirt to press into the hole on the boy’s stomach. He used his long jacket as a sort of wrap, trying it tightly so that the makeshift bandage wouldn’t move as he hefted Peter’s hulking body into his arms.

When they’d made it to the ship Yondu hauled Peter into his own room, kicking aside his furs so he could lay him out without destroying his covers. He hesitated before gingerly lifting the makeshift bandage, but quickly dropped it when the sight of how much blood was oozing out caused him a mini panic attack. It was fine, it was going to be fucking _fine._ Ravagers got hurt like this _all the time_ ; it was basically part of the goddamn job description.

He huffed and made his way out of the room without a backward glance, studiously ignoring the way his traitor heart urged him to head back the other way.

 _Fucking ridiculous_ , he thought as he took his place in the co-pilot’s seat.

“ _What?_ ” he snapped when he felt Kraglin’s heavy gaze on him.

“Nothin’, Cap. Just thought you’d stay with Pete is all,” Kraglin ventured, turning his attention to starting up the ship.

Again, Yondu felt the overwhelming urge to go sit next to the boy. It pissed him off. He wasn’t some fucking sappy jackass, and Peter wasn’t a delicate fucking flower. “Why? He ain’t goin’ nowhere, is he?”

Kraglin was many things, but he was not stupid. He knew Yondu well enough to hear the temper boiling beneath Yondu’s surface and wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Closest planet’s Aakon, two jumps from here,” Kraglin stated, firing up the engines and pulling away from the rapidly disintegrating cruiser behind them.

“Ugh, Aakon. Fuckin’ hate that place,” Yondu groaned. “Take us away then. I think there’s only one bounty on my head there. Should be safe enough.”

Kraglin nodded and adjusted their course, and Yondu leaned back in his seat, valiantly trying to pretend like he didn’t want to go check on the bleeding Terran in the back every five seconds. The problem was that two jumps were going to take about two hours, and half an hour in his foot was tapping restlessly. What if Peter had bled out there on his bed? What if he woke up and fell out of bed and died or something?

He let out a frustrated huff and tossed his seatbelt off, pulling himself to his feet. “I gotta take a piss.”

Kraglin hummed, the tone clearly stating that he was calling Yondu on his thinly veiled bullshit, but ultimately stayed quiet as his boss stomped out of the room.

Peter was exactly as Yondu had left him, lying deathly still there on Yondu’s bed, pale with blood loss, filthy and haggard looking. Yondu had genuinely meant to just poke his head in and turn right the fuck back around, but before he knew it he found himself standing at the edge of the bed. He growled at himself, wondering when the fuck he’d lost control of his own damn body, but ultimately sat down next to Peter’s prone form with a put-upon sigh.

“Yer a fucking idjit, I ever told ya that?” Yondu mumbled to the silent room. He knew what Peter would say if he were conscious, something like ‘ _well, takes one to know one,’_ or some other nonsense, but he’d toss Yondu one of those easy smiles that split his face in half anyway. Yondu scrubbed angrily at his cheek, frustrated because this wasn’t how this was supposed to fucking go.

They were supposed to be on their way back to the _Eclector,_ supposed to be headed _home_ with a hell of a haul. Like always, they were supposed to drink in celebration of such a profitable mission. Kraglin was supposed to pick a fight with Peter, but end up grinning his ass off when the kid he’d raised ended up inevitably besting him. Peter was supposed to drink too damn much and flirt with anything with legs, but ultimately fall into place at Yondu’s side, heavy weight pressing into him as he drunkenly tried to stay upright.

Yondu shook his head when he realized he’d been staring at Peter’s scruffy face, lurching to his feet in irritation. As he took up an angry pacing through the room, boots clanking loudly on the metal floors, he wondered when the actual fuck his emotions had spiraled out of his control like this.

Unbidden, a hundred and one moments started swimming through his mind:

_Peter, grinning cheekily up at the captain the first time he’d bested Kraglin in a fight, blood dripping down his temple but so fucking proud at twenty-two._

_Kraglin, losing his balance in the engine room, too far away for Yondu to reach, but Peter made it, grasped Kraglin’s forearm and pulled him up before he could fall into the open hatch with a propeller at the bottom. The way Peter grinned easily and wrapped his arm around his mentor’s shoulders and Yondu breathed a sigh of relief because in truth Kraglin was his only friend and he would have been devastated if he’d died._

_Peter in the showers, soapy water dripping down a body Yondu had no idea he’d been hiding until then, when Peter was twenty-four._

_A cocksure grin tossed his way as Peter ran ahead of the team and surprised the fuck out of all of them by taking out the target on his own. Yondu had kicked his ass, but had been secretly so damn proud._

“Fuck!” Yondu hissed, slamming his fist into the wall before storming back out of the room. He didn’t _do this fucking shit,_ he had _rules._ Don’t fuck the younger ones because they get attached too easily, don’t favor anyone but Krags because it pissed the rest of the crew off, and above all _don’t get fucking attached!_

He’d broken every single one of those goddamn rules and that fucking sucked, because now he didn’t even know if Peter was going to _live_ , so what was the fucking point in it?

Yondu plopped heavily back into his seat, not bothering with a seatbelt this time, arms crossed.

“That was a mighty long piss, boss,” Kraglin quipped.

“Shut the fuck up, Kraglin,” Yondu grunted in reply, turning his head away to look out at the stars.

By the time they’d made it to Aakon Yondu was about ready to jump out of his goddamn skin. Kraglin landed them in the hangar and Yondu made his way back into the bedroom, the only one out of them strong enough to carry the giant Terran. He grunted as he lifted Peter, mumbling to himself about fat-ass Terrans and how that’s where all the damn rations on his ship were disappearing to.

As the three of them walked into the sterile room, bloody and soot-covered, clearly Ravagers, carrying a half-dead Terran, the people parted for them like goddamn magic. Yondu carried Peter up to the front desk, rolling his eyes when the little yellow Aakonian chick manning it flinched back like he was about to shoot her with a dying man in his arms.

“He needs a damn doctor, girl, what’re ya waiting for? Hop the fuck to it,” Yondu growled, not above using her fear of him to get her moving.

The girl quivered, eyes darting around as if seeking help. “I – I – there’s paperwork, and – “

Yondu could feel his implant whirring to life in his anger, noting the way the woman’s gaze darted fearfully towards it. “Do I _look_ like I fucking care about _paperwork?_ ”

“I – no – I guess – okay,” she finished meekly, pressing a button to page someone up to the front.

Then they were taking Peter out of his arms, and he pretended to be relieved but his every instinct told him to take his boy the fuck back. He huffed and spun around to go sit in the waiting room, taking a little satisfaction in the way that the people sitting around him bolted out of their seats and to the other side of the room.

 _Hours_ later, a woman found Yondu and Kraglin sitting alone in their section of the room (Halfnut had left hours ago), their sour moods so palpable that it was like a physical dark cloud around them. She, however, seemed not only unaffected but entirely unimpressed with the pair.

“My name is Doctor Korta, and I am Mr. Quill’s attending physician,” she said, offering them her hand. Kraglin took it and shook it once, but Yondu eyed it until she dropped it to her side.

“How is he?” Kraglin asked, and Yondu could tell that like him he was trying to remain passive and failing miserably.

“He’s a lucky man, sir. A few inches to the left and I’m not sure he would have made it. Terran anatomy is a tricky thing. As it is, he has a major concussion from the knock to his head, a few contusions, several lacerations, and that wound on his side needed eight stitches.” She sighed, propping her hand on her hip. “I’m keeping him sedated for a few more days while I let the dermal regenerator do its work, but he’s going to need to take it easy for a little while after we release him. I know you boys live dangerous lives, but try and make him rest, alright? He’s healing much more quickly than I expect from a Terran, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be at his best when I’m done with him.”

Yondu let out a quiet breath as she walked away, heels clacking on the tile floor. He saw Kraglin’s shoulders slump in relief next to him and knew without a doubt that his first was feeling that same aching sense of unease seep out of him too.

“I’m gonna go get in touch with the boys back on the _Eclector_ ,” Yondu eventually said, clapping a hand to Kraglin’s shoulder as he passed.

“Boss, I know it ain’t my place, but are you – “ He cut himself off with a sigh, running a hand through his short mohawk. “Ya know that boy’s been crazy about chu fer years, don’t ya?”

Yondu froze, turning his head slightly so Kraglin could see the very unamused expression on his face. “Bull fucking shit, Kraglin. Sides, why the fuck would I care?”

Kraglin rolled his eyes, looking for all the world like he were asking some higher deity to grant him patience. “I ain’t fuckin’ stupid, Cap’n. It’s damn obvious how you feel about him. It’s just yer own fool ass who hasn’t figured it out yet. That boy’s been panting after you since he was twenty fuckin’ years old, and yer no goddamn better. Get yer head outta yer ass and go for it before you lose him. You ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

Yondu’s defenses were up in an instant, and he whirled around to grip Kraglin by the front of his jacket, bringing his snarling face so close he could feel Kraglin breathe. “Yer right, it ain’t none of yer goddamn business. Pete’s crew, and that’s fucking it, y’hear me? Back the fuck off before I make you.”

Kraglin grunted as Yondu shoved him backwards, but Yondu was out the door before he could raise a protest. He didn’t see the way Kraglin shook his head and rubbed at his neck, mumbling about being surrounded by stubborn goddamn jackasses.

\------

Two days into Peter’s hospital stay and Yondu was still fucking pissed, unable to concentrate on his damn reports, unable to scroll through the potential job listings for more than ten fucking seconds without his mind wandering to that asshole Terran. As he often did when he was restless, he found himself the seediest bar around and took up damn roots.

He’d had more drinks than he could remember when he felt a hand on his bare forearm. When he looked blurrily down he saw that it belonged to an Aakonian male, the yellow skin a dead giveaway. His eyes followed the hand up to a strong forearm, a bare bicep, a wide shoulder, and finally to a strikingly handsome smooth face.

“You look like you could use some company, baby,” the man said, deep voice washing over Yondu, and Yondu grinned.

“Well, ain’t that the truth? Sit right down here boy, lemme buy you a drink,” he said, patting the seat next to him and gesturing for the bartender for two more rounds. It was a Terran liquor, something Peter had turned him onto years ago, and he didn’t miss the Aakonian’s grimace as he swallowed a gulp of his own. Yondu snorted at his delicate sensibilities, privately thinking that Peter could drink ten of those and be just fine.

“What’s yer name?” Yondu asked, pressing his thigh against the other man’s under the bar.

“Name’s K’volick,” the man said, running his too-soft fingers up the back of Yondu’s hand.

“Well, K’volick, my names Yondu. What chu doin’ alone in a place like this?” Yondu was going through the motions, mind elsewhere, thinking about how this man’s jaw was too square, too smooth, not pink enough for his tastes. A body was a body though, right?

“Had a rough day at work,” the man sighed, eyeing his drink before pushing it away and asking the bartender for something lighter. “I got _written up_ , can you believe that?”

“Y’don’t say?” Yondu intoned, thinking about that time Peter had broken his arm on a heist and still insisted on helping out with the clean up later.

“Right? Jerks. Anyway, what about you? What are you doing here all alone?” K’volick asked, his voice nearly a purr. 

Yondu tossed back what was left of his drink with a sigh. “Drinkin’. Whassit look like?”

K’volick laughed, and its high lilt contrasted with Peter’s low easy chuckle and Yondu needed another damn drink. He gestured the bartender for another, resisting the urge to pull his thigh away from the too-thin one pressed against his. What the fuck was wrong with him? Here was this admittedly fine piece of ass basically throwing himself at him and he was, what, comparing him to Peter? Kraglin had gotten into his damn head.

Frustrated with himself, Yondu pushed his drink away and turned his full focus to the Aakonian next to him. He took his hand off the bar and brought it down to rest on the other man’s knee, looking him dead in the eye as he slowly stroked up the inseam of his pants. He grinned as K’volick shifted in his seat, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. “Hey, whadya say we get outta here, huh?”

“Yeah – yeah let’s go,” he said, pulling himself to his feet.

Yondu tossed a few units onto the bar and followed suit, pausing to pull the smaller body against him for a bruising kiss. He ignored the insistent feeling that the body was too slight, the lips too soft, the hands roving his chest too small, instead pulling away and pulling K’volick out into the night.

His ship was close, and it wasn’t long before he had the other man pressed against the wall, one leg between his slim thighs. Yondu pressed his tongue insistently into K’volick’s pliant mouth, hand skirting down to push under his shirt and stroke one prominent hip-bone. He didn’t like the way the body felt under his hands, didn’t like the quiet breathy little moans coming from his mouth, didn’t like the way he seemed so _needy_ and submissive.

His mind kept wandering to Peter, to how is thick muscled body would feel pressed against his, to how his rough stubble would probably rub his face raw, how he’d probably growl, push back, give as good as he got.

Yondu pulled away from the Aakonian boy with a dissatisfied grunt, pushing back so that the boy was left propped against the wall, panting. “Get out.”

K’volick blinked, clearly aroused and also clearly very confused. “What? But I thought – “

Yondu whirled on him, lips drawn back in an angry snarl. “Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

The other man hightailed it out of there in a hot second, and Yondu groaned, dropping his head against the metal wall and wondering when he’d gotten so fucking stupid. Because it was becoming increasingly obvious that Kraglin had been dead right. Yondu was so fucking gone on that Terran asshole that he couldn’t even bring himself to get it up for a quick drunk fuck, and that… that was _bullshit._

He stormed into his room, picking up his flask on the way before flopping onto his back on the bed with an angry huff. Now that the thought had hit him, he couldn’t shake it. As he took a long drag out of his flask he wondered just how much alcohol it was going to take before he could get his mind off of his wayward Terran.

\------

_ Peter _

The first thing Peter noticed when he swam his way to groggy consciousness as the steady _beep, beep, beep_ of a heart monitor. He had a moment of quiet panic as images of his mom in that hospital all those years ago assaulted him, but when he snapped his eyes open and realized that it was actually him in the hospital bed this time he calmed. A quick survey of the room revealed basically what you’d expect from a hospital room – white walls, a series of sleek hovering monitors, the cloying scene of sterilization – except for the very notable presence of a dirty Ravager snoring away in the chair next to his bed.

“Hey, Krags, wake up,” Peter croaked, throat desert-dry, scratching like sandpaper with his words. What the hell happened? How long had he been out?

Kraglin’s eyes snapped open and he nearly fell out of his seat, lanky limbs flailing as he righted himself. Peter saw the relief flit over his features when Kraglin’s eyes landed on him, and it warmed his heart just a little bit. He and Kraglin were pretty comfortable in their pattern of ‘I pretend to hate you because you’re a jackass, but you’re kinda my jackass so I’ve got your back anyway’, but it was always nice when Peter was reminded that Kraglin really cared for him.

“Hell, Pete, you scared the shit outta me,” Kraglin breathed, slumping back into his seat.

Peter shifted, wincing when the action pulled at something in his side. He brushed his hands over the area and realized that there were bandages there. “What the fuck happened, man? Where are we?”

“We’re on Aakon. It was the closest planet to us when yer fool ass decided to be fuckin’ noble and nearly get yerself killed tryna save the captain,” Kraglin answered, his glare letting Peter know exactly what he thought of said noble act.

“Shit, Yondu!” Peter hissed, trying to pull himself up as panic washed over him. He remembered then, remembered watching as if in slow motion as the set of jagged pipes careened down towards Yondu. There had been no thought, just the overwhelming sense of alarm as Peter dashed forward and shoved the captain out of the way.

Kraglin reached out and pushed firmly against Peter’s chest, urging him back. “Lay the fuck down, ya idjit, Cap’s fine!”

Peter let out a relieved breath and gingerly settled back down. Thank fuck Yondu was okay, because Peter had no idea what he’d do if the captain had died. He’d been helplessly in love with him for a couple of years now, and he knew that was fucking stupid but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to cope in a world without his rough, wild, absolutely fucking perfect captain in it.

“How long have I been out for?” he asked to cover up his embarrassingly obvious relief.

“Bout four days,” Kraglin replied, handing him a cup of water. Peter took a grateful sip, almost groaning in relief as the liquid soothed the sandy desert that was his tongue.

The doctor entered then, and Peter had no more time to ask Kraglin questions as the woman began asking _him_ questions, poking his wound, writing down the readings from the machines he was hooked up to. He’d been lucky, she said, because a scant few inches to the left and it would have hit his kidney. As it was, the wound was clean and healing much more quickly than anyone expected. She gave him one more night of hospital stay and two days of bed-rest, telling him that even though the wound was mostly healed it was going to hurt like a bitch if he strained it.

Kraglin remained in Peter’s room more or less around the clock, playing games, arguing, keeping him entertained because they both knew that a bored Peter was a dangerous Peter. Yondu, however, was mysteriously absent. Peter tried not to let it bother him, tried to remind himself that the captain was probably busy, or didn’t like hospitals, or was afraid he’d be arrested if he showed himself too much in public. Every excuse he could come up with, though, was flimsy and in the end he couldn’t help the way his heart ached just a little at his captain’s absence. He knew Yondu didn’t feel the same way for him, wasn’t even sure the prickly Centaurian was even capable of such feelings, but he’d always thought that they were at least friends.

Kraglin caught him staring morosely out the window once, and knew him well enough to guess his thoughts. “Cap’s got a lot on his plate, Pete. He ain’t got time to hang around no hospital and keep some stupid Terran busy.”

Peter knew that was true, knew that Yondu was busy, knew that it was probably taking a lot for him to even stay on planet while Peter stayed in the hospital, but he still couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.

When Peter was released a day later he wanted nothing more than to get right back to the _Eclector_ , but Kraglin was doing his best impression of a very angry mother hen and insisted he stay in the room he’d gotten for him.

“Quill, it’s non-refundable so yer gonna fuckin’ use it for both damn days, y’hear me?”

“Krags, we both know you didn’t pay for it out of your own damn pocket, so what the hell do you care?” Peter asked, tossing his hands up and trying not to wince at the way it pulled at his still tender wound.

Kraglin glared at him, pointedly looking down at Peter’s side as if to tell him he knew exactly what that wince had been about. “Hey, Mr. Oaks paid for that room, outta the goodness of his poor old heart. You gonna pass up that typa hospitality?”

“You _stole_ his _card._ He’s in a damn _coma,_ you animal, he has no idea he’s paying for this room,” Peter snapped, covering up his reluctant amusement with a glare.

“Who cares? Point is, it’s paid for, the doc said you needed at least two days of rest, and yer gonna fuckin’ take it or I’m gonna fuckin’ tie you to the damn bed and _make you.”_

Peter stopped dead, turning to raise one incredulous eyebrow at Kraglin. “Dude, ew. You _raised me_ , you little weirdo. Stop making passes at me. It’s gross.”

Kraglin rolled his eye and punched him none-too-gently on his shoulder before storming ahead into the hotel, Peter close on his heels and snickering. They checked in and Kraglin walked him to his room, dropping the key in his hand the second he was in the door with a warning to stay the fuck put before walking back out.

Peter sighed, deciding to take advantage of unlimited hot water and take the longest shower of his life. His bandages were water-proof, some high-tech shit that kept out water and potentially threatening germs, so he didn’t have to worry about anything hurting as he soaped up his body. The water felt incredible, the heat soothing his aching muscles, relaxing him enough that he ended up just standing under the spray with his forehead resting on the cool tiles for who knew how long.

When he’d finally had enough, he shut off the tap and gingerly dried himself off, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do for two more days on-planet. He wasn’t sure he’d been dirt side for this long since he was ten years old, and it left a restless itch in his limbs. Space was his home, the place he felt most comfortable, where he felt the most like himself. He wasn’t used to real gravity, wasn’t used to the burning sunshine streaming through his windows no matter how tightly he shut the curtains.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he walked back into the room with the towel wrapped around his waist and found _Yondu_ , of all people, sitting on the edge of his bed. The captain hadn’t heard him enter, and he took the moment to look him over. He was wearing far fewer layers than Peter was used to, in nothing but his Ravager red leather pants and a sinfully tight short-sleeved back t-shirt. He was staring at his hands in his lap like they held the answers to all of his questions.

“Oh, hey Cap. Long time no see,” Peter quipped, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the wall. He smirked when Yondu jolted, gaze snapping up to lock with Peter’s. Was he imagining things, or was Yondu looking a little flushed?

 _Definitely imagining things,_ Peter thought as Yondu pulled himself to his feet, shoulders back in that confident stance he always had. It was impossible to miss the way that the captain’s eyes roved down Peter’s naked torso, the pressure of his gaze following a trailing drip of water. It sent a little thrill through him. He’d been watching Yondu like that for longer than he could remember, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen Yondu look at him with that hungry fire in his eyes before.

Peter shifted, pushing his shoulders back slightly. “What are you doing here, Yondu?”

Yondu’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip before he tore his gaze away from Peter’s thick chest with what looked like a physical effort. Peter couldn’t put his finger on what, but there was something different about Yondu aside from the very obvious way he was checking him out. It was something in the determined set of his shoulders, in the way his hand kept clenching and unclenching, in the way his eyes kept darting from the door to Peter and back again like he wanted to bolt.

Yondu’s gaze hardened and he took a few steps across the room, stopping so close that Peter could feel the heat seeping off of his body. His captain leveled him with a heavy gaze, jaw set in determination, and Peter didn’t know what was going on but if Yondu didn’t back the fuck up he was going to have a very obvious situation going on down south. He nearly jumped away when one of Yondu’s hands came up to rest on the left side of his chest, but ultimately managed to remain mostly still.

“What’s going on?” he asked, and he wasn’t fucking stupid, he could see what Yondu’s intent was, but he really didn’t want to be fucking wrong about it so he had to ask anyway.

“I’m only gonna say this once, boy, so listen up,” Yondu snapped, and Peter tore his focuse away from the hand burning into his chest like a goddamn brand. “What you did was fuckin’ stupid, and if you ever do anything like that for me or anyone else I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Peter’s brows drew together, because what? “Hey, what? I – “

“Shut up, Pete, I ain’t done.”

Peter’s mouth snapped shut at Yondu’s glare.

“You’re a stupid fucking jackass, stubborn, pig-headed, reckless and crazy as all hell, but you’re _mine_ , understand? And I don’t want you runnin’ off gettin’ yerself killed because of some noble bullshit. We’re _Ravagers_ , boy, we look out for ourselves first and foremost. You – “

“What the _fuck_ , Yondu?” Peter hissed, peeling himself off of the wall and pushing into Yondu’s space. Yondu’s anger morphed quickly into surprise. “You can’t just – just come in here and _claim me!_ Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m yer _captain_ , and – “

Peter cut him off with a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh, save it! You just _want me_ and you’re fucking _scared_ so you’re hiding behind this alpha male bullshit. Well, I’ve got news for you, _Captain_ , if you’re too chicken-shit to tell me you want me then you sure as fuck can’t have me!”

When Yondu said nothing Peter let out a huff and turned back towards the bathroom. He didn’t get far though before he felt a hot hand gripping his shoulder. He yelped as he was spun around, back crashing into the wall, jarring his wound but it didn’t matter because Yondu had grabbed onto his hair and was pulling his mouth down and, fuck, that was Yondu’s tongue pressing against his lips. Peter’s mouth opened as if of its own volition, a groan rumbling up out of his chest as Yondu’s tongue delved in, twining with Peter’s own tongue, rougher than Terran texture doing crazy things to his libido.

Yondu pulled apart with a wet _pop_ , panting, pushing his forehead into Peter’s and Peter found himself chasing after those sinful lips.

“I fucking want you, alright?” Yondu hissed, and Peter blinked once before a slow grin stretched over his face.

He slithered his hands up to bury them in Yondu’s shirt. “I want you too, you fucking jackass,” he said, before pulling so that their lips clashed together once more. Yondu groaned as Peter ran his hands down Yondu’s stomach to slip under his shirt. The way all of Yondu’s scars felt under Peter’s fingertips, rough and jagged and perfect, made Peter’s breath hitch. He dragged his hands slowly up, up, up, taking the shirt with him until he could pull it over Yondu’s head and toss it behind him.

He felt one of Yondu’s hands slithering down between them to grasp at his aching length, and it was as his hips bucked forward into that hand that he realized the logistics of this just weren’t there. His pained cry rang out through the room and Yondu quickly retracted his hand.

“Shit, sorry, sorry, don’t go,” Peter hissed, panting, stepping forward and dragging his hands up Yondu’s naked chest. “I just – it’s the wound. I want you so bad, but moving like that really fucking hurts.”

Yondu let out a frustrated breath, but his hand was dragging soothingly down Peter’s side, trailing until he could hook them around the towel and slip it off to pool at his feet. “S’okay, Pete, I’m sure we can figure somthin’ out. Get yer ass up on that bed and lay out real pretty fer me.”

Peter hastily complied, sitting down and scooting back on the bed until his head rested against the pillows. The way Yondu’s eyes roved his naked body made his cock twitch, and he bit his lip, running one hand down his neck and chest. He watched as Yondu pushed down once on his straining length before unzipping his pants and pushing them down over his hips and thighs.

Peter suppressed a groan as his captain stepped out of the last of his clothes, mouth going dry at the sight of all that exposed flesh. He’d always known Yondu was strong, but his body was worthy of fucking worship, all thick muscles, a litany of scars and swirling black ink. Peter fervently wished he wasn’t still healing, because there were so many things he wanted to do with that gorgeous body.

“Yondu, come here,” he rasped, reaching down to stroke his own aching cock. His mouth watered when Yondu’s member dripped a sticky glob of slick, when he realized that his captain was one of _those_ , the self-lubricating species. He wondered if it happened at both ends, and the thought made him moan lowly.

Yondu crawled up the bed, peppering Peter with kisses and almost-too-hard nips, starting at his ankle and trailing up, up. He pushed Peter’s legs apart, kissing, licking, and biting a trail up his inner thigh, stopping at the junction of his thighs to bury his nose in Peter’s curls and groan. Peter cried out in pain/pleasure as Yondu’s tongue licked a stripe from his balls to his tip, the sudden jerk of Peter’s hips pulling at his wound.

“Okay, alright, time fer that later,” Yondu husked, placing one reverent kiss on the tip of Peter’s cock before moving further up. Peter could feel the way Yondu’s slick length was leaving a wet trail from where it dragged up his body and the thought made his eyes roll back into his head.

“Please, Yondu, I need you so bad. Just – fuck! Want you,” he panted as Yondu reached one of his nipples and sucked it gently between his teeth. Yondu’s hips were bucking, rubbing his slick cock against Peter’s thigh, and it was driving Peter wild.

Finally, _finally_ Yondu’s lips reached his and Peter moaned as those powerful thighs straddled him, as Yondu’s tongue slipped into his mouth, as his cock rubbed at Yondu’s ass and he realized that, yeah, Yondu’s species was one of _those_ as well. He couldn’t resist reaching back and slipping one of his fingers inside that wet heat, relishing the way that Yondu bore back onto the digit. Yondu panted into his open mouth, sweat glistening on his brow as Peter added a second finger, then a third.

“Fuck! Just like that, boy, just – ah!” Yondu growled, pushing his hips back, riding Peter’s fingers and Peter could come just from this, from the way Yondu’s ass rubbed his dick every time he pushed back, dragging that dripping slick over him.

Yondu had other plans, though, and a few seconds later reached back to push Peter’s hand away. He groaned as Peter’s fingers left him, but sat back with a moan, gripping Peter’s cock and lowering himself onto it without another word. The effort it took for Peter to not jerk his hips up was herculean, but he did bring his slick fingers up to his lips and suck them clean, relishing the way it made Yondu’s cock twitch and leak onto his stomach.

Yondu didn’t move, though, just sat there on Peter’s cock with a wicked little grin, like he knew how crazy it would drive Peter ( _fucking hell_ it was driving him _insane_ ). Peter, however, was too invested in this to sit still and so he gripped Yondu’s hips in his hands and _lifted_ , gaining just a little bit of ground before Yondu pushed himself back down and it wasn’t fucking _fair_ that Peter was undeniably bigger than Yondu but Yondu was undeniable stronger than Peter.

Peter keened, giving up because, fuck, he’d begged people before he could sure as fuck do it again. “ _Yondu_ – hnng – Yondu you gotta move. Please, I can’t – I can’t take it,” he rasped, hips twitching minutely as Yondu’s wet heat clenched down around him.

Yondu must have realized how close he was to saying fuck it all and injuring himself again to get relief because as he leaned down to slot their mouths together he rolled his hips _just so_ and Peter was lost. Yondu was not what he’d expected, was hot and gentle as he rode Peter, ever mindful of Peter’s wound and even though Peter longed to be well and truly fucked by his captain this was a whole different type of heady. He kept his hands at Yondu’s hips, relishing the feeling of them shifting, loving the way that Yondu was moving above, the agonizingly slow sliding of their bodies together driving Peter wild, the way Yondu’s sopping length dragged through the hair on Peter’s navel.

Peter could tell that he was getting close, so he reached between their bodies to grip Yondu’s slick cock in his hand, drawing a growling moan out of his captain as he pulled, twisting just so as he moved it up the length.

“Pete,” Yondu groaned, his rolling hips losing their steady rhythm. “Don’t – hnng – don’t stop. Just like that, boy, just –ah!”

Peter’s orgasm ripped through him, and he was lucky that Yondu was so heavy because he didn’t think he would have been able to still the instinctive canting of his hips if it weren’t for Yondu’s weight on him. Seconds later he felt a hot wet splash on his belly and Yondu cried out, arching against Peter as he came, the way his ass clenched around Peter’s length drawing another bit of cum out.

Later, once Yondu had cleaned them both off and slipped on his tight red boxers, they were lying in bed on their backs, pressed together from shoulders to ankles. Peter had one hand resting behind his head, the other brushing against Yondu’s, and he rolled his head to face his captain with a thoughtful look. “I love you, you know.”

Yondu lifted himself onto his elbows, turning his head to look down at Peter with a frown. “Well, that’s fuckin’ stupid.”

Peter shrugged, turning back to face the ceiling again, hyper aware of Yondu’s eyes on him. His captain huffed and plopped back down onto the mattress, twining their fingertips together. “I guess I love you too, ya jackass.”

Peter’s lips tugged up in an easy grin and he pushed their hands further together. “I know.”

He knew that the logistics of this relationship were all sorts of fucked up. Yondu was cranky and too old for Peter; his superior, his boss, and Peter was reckless, impatient, restless and hot-headed, but they were goddamn Ravagers, and since when did Ravagers ever do things the right way?

**Author's Note:**

> There we go. I don't know about you guys, but I feel significantly better about this. Yondu's still a little soft, tbh, but at least he's reluctant and cranky about it! As always, let me know what you think. Sometimes (as happened with this fic) your opinions confirm my own and it helps me grow as an author, so don't hold back :)  
> Thanks for reading, guys!  
> Also, if you're waiting for an update on Weight of the World, it's coming soon I promise!


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